


Identity

by TheNextOfKin_SPN (TheNextOfKin)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexuality, F/M, Fantasizing, Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Other, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension, sexual awakening, sexual identity crisis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 11:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3608031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNextOfKin/pseuds/TheNextOfKin_SPN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean struggles with his sexuality after his "gay thing" wth Aaron. Set directly following  Season 8 Episode: EHH.<br/>--------------<br/>Dean Winchester was always comfortable with the guy he thought he was. Then, he met someone who made him questions things about himself he'd thought he'd always known. Warning: Slash (m/m), sexual identity crisis, sexual frustration, bisexual awakening, masturbation, mentioned pairings: Dean/Aaron, Dean/Sam, Dean/Cas, Sam/Benny/Cas, Dean/Benny, Dean/female OC. Actual pairings: Dean/his hand, maybe eventual wincest &/or destiel.  Don't like, Don't read...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

It was odd, really, but Dean just couldn’t get the thought out of his head. It wasn’t something Dean would normally think about, in fact anybody who had ever known Dean would have been shocked at what he was fixated on. Dean tried clearing his head. He’d thrown himself into the usually mind-numbing task of maintaining their weapons. When polishing the guns and sharpening the knives didn’t help, he decided to give his baby some TLC, tender loving care. Even though taking care of the Impala was the one thing he’d always counted on to calm him when his heart was aching and his mind racing, he was still thinking about it. So, in a final ditch attempt at clearing his head of the unwanted thought, Dean went to a bar to get drunk and flirt with women. But, this time even that failed to help. Although the bar had had its share of gorgeous, but desperate, women, he just couldn’t seem to get in the game tonight because of those damned thoughts floating around and around in his head. He went home, back to the Men of Letters secret headquarters, only slightly tipsy and still thinking about Aaron.

Sam had fallen asleep at the table in the Letters’ library by the time Dean got in and the older Winchester thanked his lucky stars, the God he was pretty sure had abandoned them, and Cas, who had stopped answering their prayers, that he didn’t have to talk to Sam tonight and pretend that everything was right in Whoville. Dean had so many questions jostling around in his head that he didn’t need to deal with Sam’s as well. Sam had been watching Dean like a hawk since they’d left Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, which Dean supposed was about the time his adrenaline from looking for why a rabbi got barbequed, facing a fucking humongous golem, and fighting the Thule necromancer-Nazi-bastards had receded enough for Dean to actually think anything other than _Protect Sammy!_ and _Kill the evil sons-of-bitches!_

As they had left for Lebanon, Kansas, Dean had cranked the tunes loud and retreated to his own little world inside the awesome sounds of Zeppelin. In and of itself that wasn’t odd – Dean always got lost in his music. No, what was odd, what Dean figured had tipped Sam off that something was up with his older brother was that Dean didn’t sing along, not even to his favorite verses. Dean had been too busy sorting out his thoughts. Dean had made a habit over the years of taking any thought that popped into his head that he didn’t like and locking it away in a metaphorical vault in his head where he never needed to think it again. The vault still held guilt over their dad’s death, guilt over breaking in Hell and becoming the demonic sadist that he had been down there, the pain of losing Lisa and Ben, sorrow and guilt for continually dragging Sammy back into this life, sadness for his Amazon daughter who never even had a chance, guilt over Adam being locked in Lucifer’s cage for eternity, heartbreak and guilt over abandoning his friend Benny in his time of need, guilt over leaving Cas in Purgatory, and so many other things that hurt too much to think about.

Dean had tried shoving the unwanted thoughts of Aaron into that vault as well, but those damn thoughts were so stubborn they just refused to be repressed! So, now here Dean was, tiptoeing past his slumbering brother so as to avoid waking him and having to face one of Sam’s sappy, touchy-feely, chick-flick conversations, which would inevitably end with Dean spilling his guts out about just exactly what was going on in his tipsy little mind at one glance from Sam’s damn puppy-dog eyes.  

Dean was pretty sure he’d rather have his left nut ripped off by Aaron’s golem than have to reveal these thoughts to Sammy, his little brother who, he knew, still looked up to him despite his height and even after all they’d been through and all the douche moves Dean had pulled. How could Dean tell his baby brother that he thought that maybe he might be gay or something? How could he tell the one person who’d known him his whole life that he might not be who they had both always thought he was? It wasn’t like he could just say “Hey, Sam, remember how I told you that Aaron fake-flirted with me to throw me off his scent when he was tailing me? Yeah, well, I was kinda disappointed when I found out it had been an act. So, I, uh, may be like gay for him or something. Think he swings that way? – ‘Cause I’d really like to find out if I do.” Or could he? No, Dean didn’t think he could.

Dean knew Sam wouldn’t exactly mind the gay/bi/whatever thing. After all, Sam had gone to college in California, where they were all liberal and open-minded and shit. No, Sam would probably be ridiculously supportive. And, in a way that scared Dean more than the prospect of Sammy hating him. Dean didn’t think he’d survive it if Sam started treating him like he was fragile and in need of support or some shit like that just because he was having a little sexual identity crisis. So, for now he’d keep it to himself.

As Dean entered the Men of Letters’ shower-room, turned one shower cubicle’s water on, stripped himself of his bar-scented clothes, stepped into the steamy spray, and took himself in hand to the images of Aaron his mind conjured up, Dean knew he couldn’t keep this secret to himself forever. – No, if he ever wanted to be 100% sure he swung that way, he’d have to give it a go with a guy. And, well, in order for him to do it with a dude, Dean was fairly certain that dude would have to know that Dean was, well, bi-curious or something. But, instead of following that train of thought, Dean closed his eyes and enjoyed the hot rhythmic beat of water on his hunched shoulders, the cool press of tile against his forehead, and the rough, almost punishing friction of his hand as he worked himself towards an unsatisfying completion.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been just over a week since the incident with Aaron that had begun what Dean was inwardly referring to as his “Big Bi Breakthrough,” and Dean was way beyond frustrated. Sam had insisted that they spend some time combing through the Bat-Cave’s archives for useful info and had absolutely refused to look for another hunt until they had organized the files and books Sam was planning to digitize. Dean, of course, had zero interest in doing any of that. So, needless to say, Dean was practically climbing the walls with boredom and for Dean Winchester boredom was almost worse than Hell, especially when he was trying not to think about something. And, well, Dean definitely had a lot on his mind that he was trying to avoid! Dean wasn’t freaking out about being bi anymore. Oh no! - He had something way more worthy of freaking out about now.

It had started when Dean had been enjoying himself and exploring his new sexual identity in the shower for the second time since the incident with Aaron. He had been nervous, somewhat panicked, and even a tad squicked out, but, never being one to run from his fears, had boldly steeled himself to continue, screwing his eyes shut tight and leaning his upper body against cool, bracing tile. His mind had been conjuring up images of what Aaron might have hiding under that sweater of his when he decided, hand moving leisurely over the length of his cock, to let his mind wander to fantasize about what he found attractive in men. He was imagining deliciously tanned skin pulled taut over perfect abs that just begged to be licked and a dark happy-trail that led into the enticing, terrifying, mouthwatering region between two sharply defined hipbones and hidden by a low-riding waistband. His hand was moving much more rapidly now and his other hand was easing its way from massaging his balls to reaching back to massage his sensitive rim, a pleasure a chick by the name of Rhonda Hurley had introduced him to. Dean was so turned on by the image of his fantasy-man that he was barely even thinking anymore. He could just picture a lean, tapered waist, broad shoulders, thickly muscled arms, enormous hands, and a long, almost elegant neck with the curl of too-long brown hair resting against it.

Dean’s eyes had snapped open almost violently and his cock gave a painful twitch as Dean recognized his fantasy-man. He tore his hands away from his body and punched at the unforgiving tile wall, disgusted with himself for jerking off to images of his brother. _“Fucking sick pervert!”_ Dean mentally berated himself. Despite his realization and the self-loathing it had induced, Dean was still hard.

Cursing his sick mind and strong libido, Dean took a few calming breaths. _“Just think of something else! Think about that sexy waitress you hooked up with a couple weeks ago and just finish. Then, you can pretend this never happened.”_ Dean told himself before taking his cock back in hand. And so he did; he closed his eyes and pictured her tight ass, trim waist, and creamy breasts that fit perfectly in his palms. He remembered how dark her hair had been and how mischievously her blue eyes had sparkled when she’d handed him her number and said that she got off in an hour and that he should call her if he wanted to ‘get off’ too. Dean remembered being so turned on by the intensity in those blue eyes, but now they were reminding him of another set of intense blue eyes and Dean so did not want to go there!

With an exasperated growl, Dean took his hand off of his cock and adjusted the water all the way to cold, letting the frigidity wilt his erection as he tried to clear his mind.

* * *

For the next couple of days, Dean strictly avoided jerking off, or, well, thinking about sex at all. He threw himself into ‘nesting,’ exploring the Bunker, cleaning 80 year-old dust off of every surface, organizing weapons, and cooking delicious meals in their amazing kitchen.

Then, one night a few days later, Dean had a wet-dream for the first time since he was a teenager. He vaguely remembered that the dream had been about watching Sam, Cas, and Benny all in bed together. Dean was freaked the fuck out! _“It is just cause I’m so familiar with them!”_ he tried to rationalize, _“I just need to see other guys! Guys that aren’t my brother or as good as a brother to me! That’s it! I’ll just get some porn or something! Yeah, that’s it! That’s the plan! Porn’ll fix it. Porn makes everything better. This’ll work!”_

Only, it wasn’t that simple because Dean was still being practically detained at the Bunker by Sam, who despite seeming to be fully occupied by his work in the Bunker’s archive, was still keeping a wary eye on Dean, a fact of which Dean was uncomfortably aware. Dean was getting desperate. Over a week of sexual frustration was almost enough to make him crazy, so he resolved that the first chance he got he would get away from Sammy's prying concerned eyes, find some gay porn, and stock his spank-bank with images of hot guys who he could jerk it too without feeling guilty and sick.


End file.
